


An Accidental Union

by acciomerlin



Category: Merlin (TV)
Genre: Canon Era, Domestic Fluff, Fluff, Light Angst, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-07-01
Updated: 2020-07-01
Packaged: 2021-03-05 04:33:42
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 8,320
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25018573
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/acciomerlin/pseuds/acciomerlin
Summary: Merlin, to his horror, discovers that maybe he and Arthur act like a married couple after all.
Relationships: Merlin/Arthur Pendragon (Merlin)
Comments: 54
Kudos: 1203





	An Accidental Union

Merlin had a bone to pick with Arthur.

He barged into Arthur’s chambers and slammed the doors loudly behind him, expecting to get the prince’s whole attention. He was a bit offended when Arthur didn’t even look up from his reports.

“What is it, Merlin?” he drawled, frowning at the tip of his scratched-up quill.

Merlin deflated. This was not how he had seen the conversation starting. He had planned to gain the upper-hand for once, but Arthur couldn’t let him have _anything_ , could he?

He crossed his arms over his chest in a show of protest –not that Arthur was looking –and asked coldly, “Where are you going?”

Arthur finally – _finally_ –lifted his eyes to regard Merlin with furrowed eyebrows. “What the hell are you talking about?”

“I saw the stable boy saddling your horse. You’re going somewhere and you didn’t tell me!” Merlin accused heatedly.

Arthur’s lips twitched and Merlin bristled. This was _not_ supposed to be amusing.

“Oh, _that_. Well, you weren’t supposed to know about it. Nobody is but I can sense that you’re going to be annoying until I tell you, so fine. My father, Morgana and I are going for a ride into the woods for an afternoon. It’s an annual family tradition kind of thing Father insists on,” Arthur explained coolly, turning back to the reports.

Merlin wasn’t holding anything in his hands or he would’ve dropped it on the floor.

“ _What?”_ he screeched. “And you’re not taking me along?”

“Did I not _just_ say it’s a _family_ tradition?” Arthur said, shooting him a strange look.

“But –but –but –” Merlin sputtered.

“It wouldn’t be appropriate, stop acting like my wife. You do know we’re not actually married, right, Merlin –”

“Could’ve fooled me,” interrupted Morgana’s smooth voice, who’d stealthily let herself into the room and was smirking at them both.

Merlin and Arthur stared at her.

Arthur recovered first. “Shut up, Morgana. Did nobody ever teach you to knock?”

“Yes, I suppose that was a bit of a private conversation you two were having about marriage, weren’t you? Carry on,” Morgana responded, looking positively gleeful.

Arthur scowled deeply, his cheeks tainting pink. “I was talking about _not_ being married to Merlin!” he snapped.

Merlin ducked his head and frowned. Did Arthur have to sound _so_ opposed to the idea of marriage to Merlin? He knew he wasn't a princess but he wasn't hideous. At least, he didn't think so. Did Arthur think he was hideous?

He blanched at the disturbing direction his thoughts had taken off to, and focused on the conversation at hand.

Morgana laugh tinkled in the tense room. “ _Of course_ you aren’t,” she said, then muttered under her breath, “though you might as well be.”

Merlin knew Arthur had heard her but he surprisingly ignored it.

“Are you ready to go or do you want to brush your hair one more time?” Arthur mocked.

Morgana raised her eyebrows. “Says the one who is actually obsessed with his hair.”

“Am not,” Arthur scoffed unconvincingly.

Morgana rolled her eyes and grabbed his arm forcefully to steer him towards the door. “Now come _on,_ I don’t want to get another lecture from Uther because of you.”

Arthur winced at her grip but complied. Merlin just watched mutely.

Morgana looked over her shoulder at Merlin just before leaving and said sweetly, “Don’t worry, Merlin. I’ll take care of him for you.”

Merlin heard Arthur’s scandalised squawk of _“Morgana!”_ before they were both out of sight.

* * *

Merlin returned to Gaius’s chambers, feeling a bit lost and untethered.

He paused outside the door when he heard voices inside. He opened the door an inch and listened in. He wasn’t ashamed to admit that he had developed a nasty habit of eavesdropping since coming to the city –it did come handy while finding out Camelot’s enemies’ plans and saving the prince’s life. Knowing that it was ‘bad manners’ was a small price to pay.

“–she swears that’s what she saw in the king’s chambers before he threw her out!” came a feminine voice.

Merlin recognised it. It was Secile, the weaver from Lower Town that Gaius was rather cosy with. As much as he denied the claim and insisted she was just an acquaintance, Merlin knew for a fact that they were gossip buddies and nothing less.

What Merlin didn't expect was for them to start gossiping about _him_.

After they were done exchanging some unsettling tidbits about Uther’s private habits, Secile ventured to question, “Dare I ask where Merlin is? I feel like I haven't seen that boy in ages."

Merlin heard some ruffling of paper and Gaius’s voice sounded, "Ah, I’m not sure but he must be with Prince Arthur.”

Secile hummed. “I know he is the prince’s manservant but even then, they are together an awful lot, aren’t they? Arthur doesn’t go anywhere without him, and even gave Merlin his own horse, I heard.”

Gaius chuckled. “Yes, Arthur is quite fond of him.”

With very obvious intentions to pry, Secile continued, “Gaius, you know I don't mean to pry but are Merlin and Prince Arthur –you know... _involved_?"

_What?_

Merlin nearly blew his cover when he spluttered with indignation. What a preposterous idea!

He waited for Gaius to be offended on his behalf.

Gaius just laughed pleasantly. _What a traitor_.

"I can see how you would think that but I believe they are not," Gaius responded and Merlin could just picture him smiling wickedly.

Merlin itched to charge in there and set the record straight. There was _nothing_ going on between him and Arthur and Merlin certainly didn’t have _any_ amorous dreams about the Crown Prince on a bi-weekly basis. 

"It's just that they –” Secile rushed to explain.

"Act like an old married couple?” Gaius cut in with an amused chuckle.

There was that word again! _Married._ The word which had been used in reference to Merlin and Arthur’s relationship twice in an hour.

It was ridiculous and simply untrue. Merlin was too young to be bound to anyone like that, much less an insufferable royal toad –the destiny part notwithstanding, of course. He was still rather cross about that. He'd had no say in the matter and he was pretty sure these sorts of things were supposed to be consensual. So, no. His marriage was something he would have total control over. Not that he wanted a marriage, least of all with _Arthur_. Arthur was sure to be a horrid husband.

“Yes, everyone has noticed,” Gaius went on, blissfully unaware of his ward’s mental turmoil just a few feet away. “Except Merlin and Arthur themselves of course, but they're known to be rather obtuse in these matters."

Merlin was aghast at what he was hearing. This was –this was slander and dissemination of false information and the foulest form of character assassination. He wouldn’t stand for it, he wouldn’t!

It was just as Secile was about to exclaim something sounding suspiciously like ”young love” when Merlin decided he’d had enough and entered the room, effectively putting a stop to the conversation from hell.

Merlin glared pointedly at Gauis, who had the grace to look guilty, before storming into his room and locking it aggressively.

He groaned as he fell on his bed and tried to banish the images his mind, also apparently a traitor, was rapidly conjuring of him and Arthur in disgustingly romantic settings.

It was the _worst_ day of Merlin’s life.

* * *

They did _not_ act like a married couple.

Merlin paced his room as his stomach churned with dread.

He wouldn’t accept it. They were friends, yes, and they obviously cared a great deal about each other but they weren't _in love_.

 _Arthur_ definitely wasn't. Merlin...well, Merlin probably wasn't either but he refused to comment on the matter at the moment, not when his brain was relishing in some ill-timed matchmaking.

Merlin shook his head. This was doing him no good. He needed to take action, needed to seed this ridiculous notion out from his mind once and for all so things could go back to normal. Arthur was already raising eyebrows at Merlin's idiotic stuttering and blushing in his presence. It was infuriating that Merlin had suddenly lost control of his body.

This required urgent remedy.

Being Gaius's apprentice and a student of science, he needed to test this theory so when it was inevitably disproven, Merlin could announce it as faulty with absolute surety. Right?

* * *

_Wrong_.

It turned out they _did_ act like a married couple and Merlin was in danger of going prematurely bald with the amount of distressed hair-pulling he was doing.

It had started with Merlin making notes of what it was that married couples actually _did._ With Hunith raising him on her own, he hadn't closely been around them to really know what they acted like, so he sought Gwen's counsel. He was sure she could help.

Gwen, after thorough questioning and thinly veiled distrust, gave him a comprehensive list of behaviours that could be labelled as domestic and were frequently indulged in by two people committed to each other.

Merlin felt dizzy just looking at it and was already sweating when he could tick off a couple of items on the very first glance, but he didn’t let that deter him. He was sure that was simply a fluke, something that was common with all friends who were as close as Merlin and Arthur. Nothing to worry about.

Or so he thought.

* * *

The list was practically memorised within a day and stayed at the back of his mind whenever he was with Arthur, which was quite a lot.

Things went normally; there was nothing out of the ordinary. It was only after something happened that Merlin noticed how much meaning it held.

Merlin looked up from the speech he was writing on behalf of Arthur. "We need new parchment, this whole bunch looks like it's disintegrating before my eyes.”

Arthur barely spared him a glance from where he was surveying his new crossbow, handling the deadly weapon like it was a new-born babe.

"Then get some new rolls of it,” he replied distractedly. “You know where the money is kept."

Merlin nodded and got back to the speech –simultaneously making plans of visiting the Lower Town when he got the time –only to pause and backtrack on the exchange a second later, his heartbeat picking up.

Merlin was almost completely positive that servants didn’t usually know the whereabouts of their masters’ money or valuables…and yet –and yet Arthur trusted him with all of it, from his large box of gold coins to jewelled trinkets that cost a fortune. Not only that, he expected Merlin to take the money whenever the need arose and he never questioned him about it. Merlin’s breath stuttered at the magnitude of the gesture that he hadn’t even really registered before.

It was almost as if Arthur _shared_ his things with Merlin, like a partner and he expected Merlin to do the same. He barged into Merlin’s chambers unannounced when he was bored and if Merlin was absent, he had no qualms about borrowing or downright stealing Merlin’s potions and books (because taking books from the gigantic library he basically owned never occurred to him) and Merlin realised that he didn’t mind this in the least.

When had they come to this? When had the distinction between the ownership of possessions subtly changed from Arthur’s or Merlin’s to ‘theirs’, for each other’s things to be taken and used whenever they felt like it? Why did it feel so _normal?_

Merlin only snapped back to reality when his ears picked up on Arthur saying something.

“- oh and take some extra to buy yourself a new neckerchief. Yours was torn in the forest yesterday, wasn't it? I mean, I still don't know why you wear it –you’re a right sight better without the hideous rag but since you can't be deterred from being a ridiculous idiot, you might as well get a better one –” Arthur prattled on, unaware of the heat prickling up Merlin’s neck at the thinly veiled fact that he had _noticed_ a small tear in Merlin’s neckerchief and was concerned enough to ask Merlin to get a new one, despite his unreasonable dislike of them.

Merlin was doomed.

“Merlin, are you listening to me?” Arthur asked, keeping his crossbow aside to turn his full attention to Merlin.

“Yeah,” Merlin answered shortly, keeping his head down to hide the raging blush he was sporting on his face.

He was very doomed.

* * *

"Five more minutes," Arthur slurred, burrowing deeper into the pillow and blocking out the sunlight with his arm.

Merlin sighed and tried to pull back the blankets Arthur clutched with a death grip. "Come on, why do you have to do this every day? You _need_ to review the grain reports today, Geoffrey's been after you for a week. _I’ve_ had to avoid him on your behalf too!"

"And while I wholeheartedly sympathise, you’re really not making a convincing case to get me up, Merlin," came Arthur's muffled voice from somewhere under the mounds of soft bedding. Merlin glowered at him, slightly cranky and sore from his own lumpy mattress. If _he_ had this level of luxury, he wouldn't want to leave the bed either.

Normally, he would’ve given up and let Arthur have a bit of a lie-in but the day was important.

Merlin steeled himself and sat down at the end of the bed. "Arthur," he said quietly. "You also have to meet the families of the men who lost their lives in Lot's attack last month."

The playful cheeriness of the morning dulled and Merlin held his breath as Arthur's form grew still under the covers.

He slowly sat up, eyes far too clear and serious than Merlin liked to see this early in the morning.

"I'd nearly forgotten about that," he murmured absently, his lips thinning into a grim line. "Of course… you're right. This is no time to be lounging in bed. Prepare my clothes for the day."

Merlin nodded mutely and headed to the cupboard, feeling uneasy and restless as he rifled through the tunics.

Although he knew it was necessary, Merlin hated the days Arthur had to do something like this. These days when he didn't smile, when the shadows beneath his eyes got too dark and his shoulders were slumped with weight that was invisible to the naked eye but Merlin could still see was there.

He knew Arthur always blamed himself for not doing more, for not protecting his men whenever they died for him and he agonised endlessly over everything he could’ve done differently. He shut himself off, grew distant and Merlin ached to comfort, to relieve his pain. But all he could do was silently be there for him through the misery, and hope to at least coax a tentative smile out of him before bed. Something eased in Merlin’s chest whenever he succeeded.

"Merlin," sounded Arthur's sombre voice from the opposite end of the room.

Merlin quickly picked out a blue tunic and peeked out from behind the cupboard door. "Hmm?"

Arthur was sitting at the table with his chin resting on his hands, completely ignoring the platter of food in front of him. "What –what should I say? To their families?" he asked in a small voice, blue eyes stormy.

Merlin frowned and stepped out with the clothes. "Aren’t you taught what to say in these situations?"

Arthur sighed and rubbed at his temple. "Yes but I don’t want to say that. I could never stand it when my father stuck to the stupid script either. The words feel so formal and impersonal and I can just tell that the people don't believe anything I say. I want to mean what I say, Merlin. I want to tell them that I really do feel for them and that I'll do everything in my power to try and compensate for their loss and make sure it doesn't happen again. But I…I don’t know how. I just can't –I can't find the right words."

Despite the graveness of the situation, Merlin couldn’t help but smile, a helpless sort of warmth blooming in his chest.

"You just did," he said softly.

Arthur lifted his eyes to meet Merlin's. "What?"

"The right words. You already have them, Arthur. Tell them everything you just told me," Merlin answered.

Arthur swallowed thickly and he looked so insecure in that moment that Merlin wanted to hug him and never let him go.

"Are you sure? I don't –” he said, voice wavering. "I just don't want them to hate me."

" _They don't_ ," Merlin insisted, stepping closer. "Believe me. Don’t doubt yourself so much. Just be honest and they'll see you for who you are."

Arthur gazed up at him for a moment, before his lips slightly quirked up. "Really? And what's that?"

Merlin looked away, feeling strangely exposed all of a sudden. "A good prince who cares about his people more than anyone I've ever seen and is going to be the greatest king in the history of the five kingdoms. Still a prat though," he tacked on for good measure, biting on his lip to keep away the silly grin threatening to split his face.

Arthur didn't smile but his features softened and he picked at a grape, saying no more.

Merlin ignored the fact that several key items had been checked off on The List. It seemed unimportant in the moment and Merlin couldn't bring himself to care about it, not when Arthur was blazing so brightly right in front of him.

* * *

A few days later, Arthur caught Merlin looking moodily out the window, clutching tightly on to his jacket to keep away the steadily creeping chill.

Arthur joined him with a sigh and slung an arm around his shoulders. Merlin, just for a second, leaned into his warmth.

“What is it?” Arthur questioned in a long-suffering tone.

Merlin shot him an irritated look. If he wanted to ask Merlin about his problems in _that_ tone, then he shouldn’t have bothered. Merlin wasn’t looking for any pity.

“Nothing,” he lied stonily, gaze stubbornly on the darkening horizon.

Merlin could feel Arthur rolling his eyes beside him. “I know what it is.”

“No, you don’t,” Merlin responded, trying very hard not to get distracted by his closeness.

“I most certainly do,” said Arthur, turning to look at the side of Merlin’s face.

Merlin pointedly ignored him.

“It’s your mother, isn’t it?” he continued a bit softly. “You’re worried about her. Winter’s almost here and you’re wondering how Ealdor’s faring, if they have enough food to last the whole season.”

Merlin’s twisted his neck to stare at him in surprise, temporarily forgetting his brooding. He hadn’t expected Arthur to _really_ know. Was he –was he this easy to read? Were his thoughts _this_ transparent? Or were they only this transparent to _Arthur?_

The setting sun was casting a soft orange glow on one side of Arthur’s face, his golden hair blazing in the receding light. Merlin’s breath caught in his throat.

He turned towards the window again, unable to hold Arthur’s intense gaze.

“How did you know?” he asked quietly.

Arthur chuckled, and Merlin felt the vibrations from where their bodies were pressed together.

“You’re not as mysterious as you think, Merlin,” he said amusedly. “You should go visit your mother. It’s been a while, hasn’t it? I’ll send a wagon of supplies with you, just in case.”

Merlin exhaled. “Arthur, no. You don’t have to do that. I’m needed here. I’m sure Mum’s fine.”

Arthur scoffed. “Your inflated sense of self-importance astounds me, Merlin. I am confident that Camelot will manage just fine without you for a few weeks. In fact, we’ll all enjoy the peace and quiet. Don’t think you have to hurry back or anything.”

“Arthur –”

“ _Go._ It’s an order. I don’t want you sulking for months and ruining my whole mood.”

Merlin suppressed a smile into his neckerchief as he ducked his head bashfully. “Fine. If you insist. I –I’ll leave in a day or two.”

Arthur grinned and grabbed the back of his neck with one hand. “Good. Now come on, I’m freezing my arse out here.”

“Arthur.”

“Hmm?”

“Thank you,” Merlin said, giving in to the urge and smiling finally.

Arthur’s eyes twinkled with mirth and an emotion Merlin couldn’t identify. “It’s fine. I’m doing it for Hunith and my sanity anyway.”

* * *

Merlin returned from Ealdor a bit earlier than he’d anticipated. His mother had fortunately been well and ecstatic to see Merlin. A whole week of pampering meant Merlin was in a fairly good mood and he hoped Prince Prat wasn’t about to ruin it.

He went in to the kitchens to fetch breakfast and headed towards Arthur’s chambers, feeling a little giddy to see him again after so many days.

Merlin was about to enter the room when he heard voices.

“Will you require my assistance after training, my lord?” came a constipated voice that Merlin hated with a passion. _George._

Quietly, Merlin opened the door an inch and peeked inside.

“Err, that won’t be necessary, thank you George,” said Arthur, grimacing slightly as he lifted his hands so George could dress him.

Merlin smirked with petty satisfaction. Arthur _always_ called for Merlin after training, to remove his armour or to draw a bath or just to hear him complain about how Gwaine’s fighting had no ‘structure’, which was apparently the only reason he’d bested Arthur in combat that day.

 _All right._ Merlin could admit it. He knew that he somewhat acted like Arthur’s wife but in his defence, that was part of his job description. The rules of commonfolk didn’t really apply to royalty because royals were spoiled brats who couldn’t even lift a finger to comb their own hair. It didn’t _mean_ anything.

But all that changed after Merlin observed George dress Arthur and stared in abject horror when George _didn't_ straighten Arthur's collar obsessively or smoothen Arthur’s tunic by running his hands down his torso. _George_ just pulled the tunic over Arthur's head and _left._

Merlin wanted to cry. Why hadn't Arthur ever _told_ Merlin that he wasn't supposed to do all the extra fussing?

This was _so_ _embarrassing_. Maybe Merlin was the village idiot, after all. 

Heat prickled at Merlin’s neck as he quickly backed away from the door. What else was there that Merlin wasn’t doing properly and all the while was just making a complete fool of himself in front of Arthur?

_Why hadn’t Arthur told him?_

Merlin’s mind offered no coherent explanation aside from... aside from Arthur actually _liking_ Merlin’s touching. Could it be?

Merlin immediately resented the excited flutter his stomach gave at the thought. As if he didn't have enough to be embarrassed by, even without the possibility of Arthur being attracted to Merlin.

No, _no._ It wasn’t possible. If that were the case, Merlin would know. He prided himself on knowing everything about Arthur and a thing like this would surely not escape his notice.

Merlin wasn’t _that_ oblivious, thank you very much.

* * *

Despite repeatedly telling it that it wasn't possible, Merlin's mind still continued to raise the question of "what if?"

Sleep evaded him.

He laid awake and thought back against all his instincts about how Arthur always saved pears on his plate for Merlin because he knew they were his favourite fruit or how he forcefully fed Merlin when he knew he hadn't had time for a meal, giving some flimsy excuse of how he didn't want his manservant fainting on the job.

Merlin thought about Arthur’s tunics he unthinkingly admired sometimes, only for them to end up in Merlin's cupboard a week later because they had gotten "too old", even though they were always in perfect condition.

He thought of how they both knew all of each other's quirks and habits and seamlessly accommodated to them, no other questions asked aside from a few light-hearted insults here and there. It came from years of knowing each other yes, but there was also something _more_.

Merlin had a lot of friends but he hesitated when it came to closeness, whereas Arthur had the hardest time trusting people. They didn’t have a bond like this with anyone but each other and Merlin realised that he couldn’t bear the idea of living without it.

Merlin’s mind drifted to the unacknowledged touches they shared on a daily basis, which were so small and natural that they almost went unnoticed. _Almost._ It just so happened that they were burned into Merlin’s skin.

They were subtle, like hands lingering when Merlin handed Arthur the reins to his horse, the feel of light fingers when Arthur plucked a wayward twig from Merlin’s hair, standing a tad too close to the heat of Arthur’s body when Merlin tightened the buckles of his armour with just the right amount of pressure.

Warmth pooled in his belly at the memories, and Merlin imagined longingly how more touches would feel –touches that lasted longer, that were purposeful and rife with meaning. Merlin had never allowed himself to think this way but now he found that he couldn't stop. It was agony.

With his heart filling with dread, Merlin realised that one thing was absolutely certain. Whether or not Arthur harboured any feelings for him, Merlin was without a doubt irrevocably _smitten_.

Great. This was just great. His stupid experiment had spectacularly backfired, bringing forth terrifying revelations Merlin wasn’t ready to face. He should have predicted this.

He didn't _need_ self-awareness, nothing good could come of it. He wanted to go back to being an oblivious fool, back when he could convince himself that he didn't want to desperately snog Arthur against a tree.

Merlin groaned loudly into the silence of the night. He was just setting himself up for heartbreak. He knew he was probably projecting his own feelings on Arthur and there was no chance Arthur actually felt that way in return.

Their married couple act was fine before, when Merlin had securely shielded himself with solidly built denial but now all his defences had come crumbling down. Merlin didn’t think he could stand to be this way with Arthur any more, not when he was sure to give himself away and probably earn banishment from the kingdom any second. No matter what, he _couldn’t_ compromise his position at Arthur’s side and on his duty to _always_ protect him.

No, this required urgent remedy.

Merlin vowed to keep distance, to actively cease all forms of domestic behaviour between them so he could spare his heart some pain and retain at least some semblance of friendship with his prince.

It was for the best.

* * *

“Merlin?”

“Merlin!”

Gaius snapped his fingers in front of Merlin’s face and Merlin started abruptly, focusing his eyes to rest on Gaius, who was frowning at him.

“Yeah?”

“You’ve barely touched your breakfast. Are you feeling okay?” Gaius enquired, his voice coloured with concern.

Merlin looked down at the full bowl of cold porridge in front of him and quickly shovelled a spoonful of it. His stomach protested violently and nausea rolled through him.

Nonetheless, he nodded to ease Gaius’s mind.

Gaius looked unconvinced but let it go, fully aware that Merlin only ever divulged information if he wanted to and there was nothing to be done about it.

“Are you accompanying Arthur on patrol today?” he asked instead, his eyebrows doing some truly impressive tricks.

Merlin shrugged noncommittally and averted his gaze. “When do I not?”

“Merlin, if you’re not up for it, I’m sure you can be excused this one time –”

“No, no,” Merlin cut in, rubbing at his eyes tiredly. “It’s no problem. I’m okay. I should go, I’m getting late anyway,” he said, getting up and grabbing his jacket.

“Your food, my boy –” Gaius called after him.

“Not hungry!” he called back, soundly shutting the door behind him.

* * *

It wasn’t that Merlin wasn’t sleeping _at all,_ it was just that he’d only gotten about four hours of it in the past three days. He was working harder as an excuse to keep away from Arthur but wasn’t getting enough rest and the exhaustion was steadily catching up with him.

But it was fine. He’d been through worse. A little fatigue was nothing, he could easily pull through.

In fact, it was even helping him in a way. He hadn’t really thought or felt anything for Arthur in a couple of days. There _was_ the small hiccup that he wasn’t feeling much of _anything_ because his brain just felt numb most of the time but he was sure it was fine. He would get there eventually.

Merlin was jerked back into reality when his horse veered too far left again and threatened to separate from the group. He weakly brought it back on course and exhaled a shudder, a chill going up his spine as the wind picked up.

He could feel Arthur’s eyes on him. He refused to indulge.

Finally, after what felt like an hour of Merlin holding his breath in simultaneous dread and anticipation, Arthur steered his steed closer to Merlin’s.

“Merlin, what’s the matter?” he asked in a low voice, glancing briefly at the party of knights behind them. “You look like you’re about to keel over.”

“I’m fine _,”_ Merlin snapped, wondering irritably why he had to keep repeating it to everyone.

Arthur, being _Arthur,_ wasn’t fazed by Merlin’s sudden anger in the least.

“Merlin, you idiot, look at yourself!” he exclaimed, a hint of alarm in his voice. “I can practically see through you with how pale you are.”

“ _Lay off_ , Arthur. I said I’m fine,” Merlin hissed. His pulse was pounding uncomfortably in his ears and the edges of his vision were going a bit blurry. A bout of nausea nearly knocked him out.

Despite all this, his besotted brain still managed to register how worried Arthur looked. Worried over _him._ It shouldn’t have had the effect on Merlin it did.

“Don’t be daft. You’re clearly unwell,” insisted Arthur forcefully. “Come on, we’re turning back.” His hand reached out to grab at Merlin’s wrist.

Merlin recoiled, almost in a haze.

Hurt flashed through Arthur’s eyes and his hand fell limply back to his side. Merlin swallowed, guilt gnawing at him. He willed his mouth to open, for words to come out.

But before he could apologise –or say _anything_ – darkness enveloped him in weightless arms and his senses blacked out.

* * *

Consciousness prickled at Merlin and he became vaguely aware of his surroundings.

It was toasty warm, smelled of soup and medicine and there was a soppy wet rag resting on his forehead. His body was unbelievably sore, not to mention sticky with sweat.

Eyes feeling like lead, he opened them slowly, taking in the sight of Gaius's chamber and Gwen occupying the chair beside him, dozing softly.

His tried to greet her but his throat was so parched that all that came out was a scratchy groan.

Gwen heard him regardless and jerked awake.

"Merlin," she cried softly, a relieved grin breaking through her face. "You're awake! How are you feeling?"

Not waiting for an answer, she got up and brought a cup of water to his lips. He drank greedily and fell back against the thin pillow, fighting off the wave of dizziness that shot through him at the simple movement.

"Peachy," he said flatly, struggling to keep his eyes open.

Gwen frowned and the creases on her forehead returned. "Your fever hasn't broken yet, but I suppose it is much too soon for that. Do you think you can eat something? I know you probably aren't feeling up for it but we have to keep your strength up and Arthur will kill me if I don't at least try to get some food in you -"

His brain fought to track her rambling and just barely managed to latch on to the one name that succeeded in making his head spin even without a fever.

"What?" he breathed. "Arthur?"

Gwen bit her lip and looked at him nervously. "Yes, he's the one who brought you here. You scared us all to death, Merlin!"

"What -what happened, Gwen?"

"Well, Arthur said you collapsed and fell off your horse during patrol. He immediately rode back here with you and called for Gaius because _oh Merlin_ , you were burning up and so pale and your pulse was so faint -Arthur looked half mad and wouldn't leave your side until you woke up," Gwen finished, distressed.

Merlin's heart jumped and he looked around the room, as if Arthur was sitting in it somewhere and Merlin just hadn't noticed him yet.

Gwen followed his gaze and grabbed his hand comfortingly. "No, he isn't here right now," she explained softly. "We finally managed to make him leave about an hour ago. Who knows what Uther would do if he found out why Arthur was neglecting all his duties? We did promise that we’d inform him the second you woke up, though."

"Oh," Merlin whispered, imagining Arthur sitting in the chair occupied by Gwen currently, looking over Merlin... taking care of him? Why would he do that? Did he feel responsible for Merlin's bedridden state? That was probably it. Trust Arthur to insert himself into every situation and make it about himself.

It made sense and Merlin’s heart sank, just a little.

Gwen's squeezed his hand, her warm gaze boring into him. "He was so worried, Merlin. It was quite touching, really."

Merlin swallowed thickly, not knowing what to say.

“I suppose I should send for him then?" Gwen ventured hesitantly, sensing Merlin's turmoil.

"No!" he exclaimed, voice barely recognisable. "Don't. I just -not right now. I can't..."

Gwen nodded understandingly, pulling the blanket up his chest gently. "Of course, whatever you want."

Merlin smiled weakly at her, and held on to her hand, deliriously wondering why it couldn't be Gwen he fell for. She was beautiful, kind, compassionate. Everything would be so simple.

Merlin remembered in a sharp moment of clarity before drifting back to sleep that nothing in his life was _ever_ simple.

* * *

Merlin was back on his feet and ready for work in a week. It didn’t do anything to cheer him up, and only gave him more anxiety.

It was hard. It was _so_ hard but Merlin managed to keep his distance from Arthur somehow. It made him miserable and he missed Arthur terribly but he still did it. And weren’t self-inflicted yet necessary hardships just what his life was all about?

He completed all his chores on time, more efficiently than before since all his time wasn't spent bickering with Arthur.

Merlin was cordial and polite. It was _hell_.

He didn't stay in Arthur's chambers for a second longer than was strictly required, he pretended to not hear Arthur's call when he fled through the corridors and he ignored the untouched pears left on Arthur's plate every time. Additionally, Merlin kept touching to a bare minimum, trying his hardest to not skim the skin of Arthur's stomach when he dressed him and snatching his hand back whenever he handed Arthur something.

It was hard to bite his tongue on a snarky retort whenever Arthur tried to get a rise out of him, even harder when Arthur deflated at his lack of response and dismissed him.

Keeping so much inside and carrying all this emotional baggage, Merlin felt like he was going to implode.

The worst thing was that his feelings weren't going anywhere and he had never felt so frustrated in his life. It was an impossible situation and he hated every second of it.

And Arthur noticed. Merlin knew he did. Of course Merlin knew, he could read Arthur like a book, had all his expressions and moods memorised like the lines on the back of his hands.

Arthur noticed everything and his patience was starting to wear thin. Merlin wondered if he just might get fired regardless, rendering all his efforts futile. He wouldn’t even be surprised.

* * *

Merlin exited the kitchens and witnessed Gwaine limping up the corridor in full armour and accompanying bruises.

"Merlin, mate, give me a hand, would you?" he panted when Merlin caught up with him, flashing a quick grin and unceremoniously slinging an arm around Merlin's shoulder to lean his weight against it.

"Gwaine, did you get in a fight at the tavern again?" Merlin tsked, grinning and giving him a mockingly stern eyebrow raise.

Gwaine barked out a laugh. "Tavern fights are small mercies compared to the hell your princess is putting us through in training."

Merlin flinched. "He isn't _my_ anything," he muttered, looking down at his feet.

Gwaine smirked roguishly. "Ours then. Camelot's."

Merlin shrugged vaguely.

Gwaine was eyeing him in that disconcerting way of his and Merlin tried to ignore the uncomfortable prickle under his skin. He felt exposed, as though all his feelings were out in open for everyone to see. It wasn’t a pleasant sensation and set Merlin on edge.

"So," Gwaine drawled, as they made their way up a flight of stairs. "Care to tell me what's caused this particular hissy fit?"

Merlin kept his gaze firmly ahead. "No, and I don't know why you're asking _me_."

Gwaine snorted. "Are you taking the piss? Who else would I ask? You two have been joined at the hip ever since I met you."

"That's not true," Merlin responded, feeling unmistakable heat creep up his neck.

"I may not be completely sober but is that you prettily _blushing_ , Merls?" Gwaine said, sounding highly amused.

Merlin blushed harder. "N -no, of course not," he stammered. He slipped out of Gwaine's grasp, nervous and flustered. "Listen, can you walk the rest of the way? I have to attend to Gaius –”

Gwaine caught the back of his jacket before he could move. "You're not going anywhere until you can get your princess to stop inflicting this torture upon us."

Merlin crossed his arms over his chest and willed himself to be calm. "I don't know how to do that."

"You might be the only person who does,” Gwaine said, giving him a significant look. "What’s he done this time, anyway? Can’t you forgive him? I get that you’re punishing him but we’re getting punished in the process too, mate."

"I’m not doing anything!” Merlin burst out heatedly. Narrowing his eyes, he continued, “And hold on a second. How are you so sure this has something to do with me?"

Gwaine paused for a moment and then a wide smile spread over his lips.

"Because," he explained. "Arthur told me."

Now _this_ Merlin wasn't expecting.

He gaped at Gwaine incredulously. "Arthur _what_?"

"You heard right. He told me,” Gwaine informed him smugly. “I asked him. I said, ‘princess, why are you being such a princess?' and he told me to ask you.”

Merlin fumed. How dare Arthur give excuses for his rude behaviour by pushing the blame on Merlin? This was just so typical of him –the arrogant, selfish, entitled _prat._

"Where did he go? After training?" Merlin asked through gritted teeth, feeling restless with annoyance.

Gwaine shrugged and pointed with his thumb. "He was on his way to his chambers."

Without a word, Merlin stomped through the castle to have a word with Arthur. _This_ would not fly. Whatever was going on was between them, he didn’t need to take it out on others, _especially_ not on Merlin’s friends.

He found Arthur in the passageway, a few doors away from his chambers. He’d had his armour removed and was now donned in a simple red tunic.

Merlin stalked up to him angrily. "What did you tell the knights?"

Arthur looked bewildered at Merlin’s sudden appearance. “ _What?_ ”

“You told them you were training them extra hard because of _me?_ ” Merlin ground out, eyes flashing.

Arthur stared at him, looking confused as well as little vexed. “Merlin, I have no idea what the hell you’re on about. Who did you talk to?”

Merlin stuck his chin out, his confidence wavering slightly at Arthur’s lack of admission to guilt. “Gwaine. He basically said you’re lashing out at the knights on the training ground because you’re annoyed at me.”

"Gwaine is a pathological liar, Merlin," Arthur said irritably. “I’m doing no such thing. _But_ he’s right that I am annoyed at you.”

“So you’re not taking out your anger on them?” Merlin asked disbelievingly, thinking back on Gwaine’s condition.

Arthur huffed and looked away. “Maybe a little, but it’s nothing they can’t handle. Gwaine is just being crybaby. He literally beat all the other knights in sparring today, even did a victory dance.”

Merlin nodded stiffly, crossing his arms over his chest. “Fine. Just don’t do it again.”

“Anything else I should keep in mind?” Arthur asked, his voice as chilly as the winds of Ismere.

“No,” Merlin replied, and his whole body thrummed with nervous energy. “I –I have to go anyway –”

" _Not so fast_ ," Arthur growled, grabbing his arm reflexively. " _You_ don't get to decide when we talk."

Before Merlin could utter a single word in protest, Arthur started dragging him towards his chambers. Merlin could’ve freed his arm if he wanted but he helplessly followed Arthur instead. _Stupid._

They entered inside and Arthur turned on him, trapping Merlin between the door and himself.

Merlin felt caged, and frantically looked for some means of escape, his throat feeling dry at the intensity in Arthur’s eyes.

Arthur was breathing hard, clearly upset. "Enough is enough, Merlin,” he announced, his voice coming out broken. “Why are you avoiding me?"

"I'm not avoiding you," Merlin responded automatically, wincing at the lies and denial coating his tongue.

“Yes, you are, don’t lie!” Arthur snarled. “What is it? Have I done something wrong?”

Merlin closed his eyes against the onslaught of conflicting emotions threatening to burst out of him. “No, Arthur, you haven’t done anything –” he stammered. “It’s nothing, really –”

“Just tell me!” Arthur exclaimed, and Merlin was alarmed to hear the unmistakable desperation lacing his words. “I thought you were just moody because you weren't feeling well and everything would go back to normal once you recovered and returned to work but –”

"Everything _is_ normal!" Merlin tried, closing his hands into fists to keep himself from saying something he didn’t mean to.

"Did you hit your head _that_ hard when you fell? It's clearly not! This is the most you’ve spoken to me in a week!" Arthur said.

Merlin swallowed. "So just because you're getting less attention, something must be amiss?"

" _Yes,_ ” Arthur emphasised wildly. “I can't get you to _shut up_ usually and you're always _with_ me but lately –”

"That’s part of my job!” Merlin argued. “I don't trail after you on purpose."

Arthur’s shoulders slumped and he let out a breathy laugh. Something cloudy and dangerous flickered in his eyes. “Oh, is that how it is? Just a job for you then?"

Merlin grimaced, immediately regretting his words. "I –no. No. Arthur –”

"Fine."

"I didn't mean it like that."

"Then what _did_ you mean it like?"

"It's just – _we’ve got to stop, okay_?” Merlin blurted out finally, pushing a hand through his hair in distress. “With the –with the thing we do!"

Arthur threw up his hands in frustration. "What _thing_? You're making no sense!"

"Acting like we're married!" Merlin screamed, physically unable to keep it all in anymore. He breathed hard and tried to gauge Arthur’s reaction.

Arthur chose that moment to shut up and stared at him in shock, the sudden silence of the room deafening to Merlin’s ears. Merlin waited with bated breath.

Arthur finally – _finally_ –exhaled unsteadily and said slowly, “Is that what this has been all about?"

Merlin nodded mutely.

Arthur looked like he was trying very hard to wrap his head around it. “I –where did you even get this idea from? That we –that we do…that.”

Merlin bit on his bottom lip anxiously, and he could swear Arthur’s gaze dropped down to his mouth for a second. “Gaius said it once –”

“ _Gaius_ said it _once_?” Arthur interrupted, with a sceptical raise of his eyebrow.

Merlin bristled impatiently. "Well yes, but –but he also said that _everyone_ thinks it."

"Who's this ‘everyone’?" Arthur questioned with theatrical air quotes.

Merlin sighed, rubbing a tired hand across his face. "I don't know but they're right. Doesn't this concern you? I don't want people to get the wrong impression. We’re not –we’re not normal, Arthur."

"And you think I don't know that?" challenged Arthur.

Merlin stared at him.

Arthur rolled his eyes as if Merlin was a particularly bothersome child. "You think I let all servants call me made-up names or that I ride to their village in an _enemy_ kingdom to save it from a warlord at risk of _war_ or –or _drink poison_ for them -"

Merlin had to interject, "To be fair, you just _thought_ it was poison –”

"That's not the point,” Arthur interrupted softly. “I'm trying to prove something here."

"That we have unhealthy patterns of behaviour which are outright domestic? Yes, I already know that," Merlin pointed out.

Arthur’s lips quirked up, brightening his whole face like the reappearance of sun’s rays after a storm. “Good Lord, Merlin, you really are as stupid as you look,” he declared with a teasing lilt to his tone.

Merlin huffed indignantly. "I am not!"

“Yes, you are. The _stupidest,”_ Arthur announced, letting out a short, relieved laugh. _“_ Here I was going out of my mind wondering _why_ you were suddenly shutting me out and you were just –being _stupid,_ as usual!”

“You really need to learn more words,” Merlin shot back.

A full-fledged smile now graced Arthur’s features and he looked downright _beautiful._

Merlin tried not get breathless at the sight of him. It was one of the tougher tasks he’d had to undertake.

"So what?” Arthur mocked but the giddiness in his voice betrayed him. “You know what I'm thinking at every moment? That's nonsense."

Merlin scoffed despite himself. "It's not nonsense. I always roughly have an idea about what's going inside that thick head of yours –”

"Really?” Arthur questioned, with a fiercely determined glint in his eyes. “Then you must know that you're driving me _absolutely mad_ right now and that I'm seconds away from kissing you within an inch of your life?"

"Of course I – _what?_ ” Merlin gaped at him, his _useless_ brain suddenly deciding to cease all processing.

Arthur smirked. "That's what I thought."

Arthur seemed to allow himself a moment of smug pleasure, raking his eyes over Merlin's stunned face, before surging forward and closing the distance between them to capture Merlin's lips with his own. His mouth pressed against Merlin's with a dizzyingly coaxing pressure and Merlin’s head _reeled_. Merlin gave a gasp when his back hit the door, allowing Arthur to kiss him deeper...and –and Merlin _melted_ into it, parting his lips and pushing closer.

Their bodies moved as if they had been doing this forever. Merlin avoided jostling Arthur's right shoulder when he wrapped his arms around him because he _knew_ there was an old injury there. Arthur kept his hands firmly on the sides of Merlin's neck, thumbs caressing his skin but his fingers well away from Merlin’s hair because he _knew_ Merlin didn't like anyone to touch it.

Although, perhaps he could allow Arthur to be the exception for that. For _anything,_ as long as he kept kissing Merlin like that.

Somewhere at the back of his mind, he distantly registered that they'd broken the very last barrier of acting like a married couple, something he hadn’t even added in his list because of the sheer improbability of it. But he just could not bring himself to care in the moment, not when it felt so good. Not when Arthur could still take him by surprise like this.

Not when the thought of marriage to Arthur didn't seem that awful to him now, assuming it ever had.

* * *

* * *

Merlin woke up choking and it wasn't even the good kind. It was the kind where he was in danger of losing consciousness any second and he wasn’t really all that crazy about it.

The culprit, also known as Arthur's arm was lying like dead weight across his throat, effectively cutting off his air supply. _Months_ of sleeping in the same bed and Arthur still couldn’t grasp the simple concept of _sharing_.

Merlin violently kicked at Arthur’s legs under the blankets but to no avail. The oaf still didn't budge, and Merlin had to reach up to peel Arthur’s arm off his body and throw it back to his side of the bed.

Merlin’s breath hitched when he grabbed Arthur’s hand with his own to move it, and Arthur sleepily intertwined their fingers together. He pulled Merlin against him and placed their linked hands over his steadily beating heart, still fast asleep.

Merlin smiled softly and squeezed Arthur’s fingers. He curled himself around hisprince to stare at his golden form and drowsily kissed his bare shoulder, eyes already drifting shut.

In the morning, Arthur would make faces at the disgusting sweetness of their position and push Merlin off the bed to restore manly balance, only to pull him back up a moment later to kiss him.

A resentful Merlin would pinch him mercilessly to ward off his advances and after a brief scuffle, Arthur would manage to pin his wrists above his head, smirking down at him far too smugly. Merlin would inform him that Morgana had been right about his utter awfulness all along and Arthur would groan loudly, admonishing him for bringing up that harpy in bed and killing the mood.

Laughter would echo among the chirping of the birds and they would end up entangled under the blankets moments later and Merlin wouldn't have it any other way.

**Author's Note:**

> That was sickeningly sweet, wasn't it? Yeah. But domestic Merthur is my ULTIMATE jam so it can't be helped.  
> This fic turned out way differently than I intended but overall, I don't hate it. I know 8k words is not really an achievement but it's my longest Merlin fic to date and that counts for something, right? :')
> 
> Anyway, thanks for reading and drop a comment to let me know what you think!
> 
> Find me on [tumblr](https://acciomeriin.tumblr.com/)!
> 
> Till next time!


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